33"Are you stalking me?"
OK, so some would call me a stalker. Heck I'd call myself a stalker! But don't worry, I'm not one of those people who look through your window having climbed an oak tree in front of your bedroom window and watch you while you sleep. Scout's honour, I don't do that. That's a bit extreme, don't ya' think?
However, I do stalk people at their local bookstore where they sit in the same spot reading, I think (I couldn't find a seat near him once), the same book for forty minutes while sipping a coffee that they ordered from the café upstairs. And that's where the stalking ends. Really.
So that's why on my only Saturday, that I finally had free of any homework, I was at the bookstore sitting in the seat opposite the couch that my stalkee would sit at. I didn't even know what his name was! All I knew was that he had a massive brownish-blackish afro, gorgeous hazel eyes and a milky brown complexion. In other words, he was perfect. Really perfect.
"Morning Sophie," Mr Crouch, the owner of the small bookshop greeted me with my coffee. He usually does runs upstairs and gets people what they want. I always order a Choco mocha latte, double cream. Can anyone say the word 'yum'?
"Morning Mr C, how are you today?" I asked taking my coffee.
"Ah well thank you Sophie, very well. How about yourself?"
"I'm good as always, a little tired but well."
"Yes! You're always in here bright and early. I'm only guessing you have a wonderful passion for reading!" Mr C said. I could see that his eyes were shining. I forced a smile.
"Oh yes, um, a passion. Sure."
"Well, I must be off, got more coffee to deliver."
"OK, bye, and thanks for the latte!" I called out to his retreating back. "Passion, yeah right," I muttered under my breath once I was sure he was out of earshot.
I didn't read. I don't read. I don't like reading.
Yep, I must be one good stalker right? To sit there for forty minutes reading, when I could be surfing the net, or watching the book on the big screen!
I'm not shallow or anything where I only live to shop or only strive to get my looks to be perfect. No, I wasn't like that, I was just a very hyper teenager. Ask me to sit down for ten minutes reading, and I'd refuse flat out. Offer me fifty pounds with that and I'd still refuse. But ask me to endure an hour with the snobbiest girls in school and shop with them for no money as a bribe, and I'd pick that, no question. I was a more moving person than a sitting down reading person.
Weird, I know. I don't fit the normal stereotype cliché girls do I? Meh.
The only thing that kept me going was the coffee. It was my adrenalin. My family call me a traitor. They keep on saying how I am a disgrace to England; I drink coffee, which is apparently an American thing, and I don't drink tea, which is a British thing. They're obviously joking but sometimes they sound so serious, it scares me. My family is so dysfunctional.
I love them to bits!
The door jingled. Without looking up I could sense someone moving in front of my and getting seated on the couch. As usual I looked up and pretended to take a sip out of my cup, which I did, but I was always looking at my stalkee. I let my eyes roam around the room and settle on him a couple of times.
Gorgeous, I thought.
He was wearing faded jeans that were scuffed and ripped slightly at the bottom where it dragged on the floor. He had on a grey hoodie which framed his tall, lean body off perfectly. He was looking as usual, like a Godsend.
I nicknamed him Mr Darcy Junior because every time he came into the bookshop, he was reading 'Pride and Prejudice' by Jane Austen. Yep, he was one of those guys who weren't afraid to read a good romance novel. (I've seen the movie) The junior part in the nickname was there because…well because.
I settled my eyes back on my own book. I sighed and bit my lip in frustration. Could this get more tiresome?
I got up. I never did that. Well, of course I got up, but it wasn't my routine to get up at the bookstore. I had been reading, or well looking, at the book for the past week or so and, well, let's just say counting sheep sounds like more fun.
As I stood up my eyes, subconsciously, fell upon Mr Darcy Junior. He was looking at me! (Insert squeal here) I'd always tried to make purpose eye contact with him, but it never seemed to work. My stalking skills needed to be brushed up!
My own gray eyes looked into his hazel ones, and for a brief moment they were hard. His whole body seemed to have frozen up.
Maybe he knows I'm stalking him!
I panicked and quickly walked to the Fiction books section of the store. Crap, I thought. This sucked. It was as if he was…worried! My heart was thudding. Maybe he was worried that I was going to jump out with a knife and threaten him. I mean, that was what stalkers did right? Damn I really needed to brush up on my stalking skills!
I put my book back in its right place before looking for another book. One that looked interesting. Well, at least one that had colours on it. On the top shelf of one of the aisles was a big bright blue book.
"Ooh, pretty," I said to myself. I stood on my tiptoes and tried to reach for the book with no avail. Screw my mini 5 foot something. I tried again and again came back onto my feet with no book in hand. As I made another try and hand reached over me and picked up the book. I followed the hand, arm and met the face of the person who had taken down the book I wanted.
MR DARCY JUNIOR! My mind screamed.
Mr Darcy Junior held out the book to me. I took it, our fingers brushed briefly. That scene was totally movie worthy.
"Thanks," I said with a smile. Mr Darcy Jr returned the smile along with a nod.
He gave me the nod! You know the nod right? The ones guys give girls with that 'sup' look on their faces. OK, so this nod wasn't the 'sup-nod-look' but more of the 'oh-yeah-it's-cool-look'.
He stood there for a moment before speaking. My heart hammered against my ribs. This was it; he was going to tell me to stop stalking him…
"So, you've finally finished that book?" he asked me. His voice was everything I imagined it to be, except he had an accent. An American one.
Hmm, American. Nice.
"I mean you look like you hate reading, you're always sighing and biting your lip. It's funny you're expressions and mood contrast with the fact that you're here almost everyday."
Wait, what did he stay?
I gasped. "Are you stalking me or something?" I asked him outraged.
"No!" he denied going red.
"And who are you to question what I read and why I read? I mean you sit there reading the same book every single bloody day! God, Americans!" I cried out frustrated.
He mimicked my gasp, not mockingly though. "Are you stalking me or something?"
I bit my lip. It was over. Mission incomplete. I failed. "No!" I too denied hoping I wasn't going red.
"Ha! You are too stalking me!" he said grinning triumphantly.
"You're stalking me!" I said crossing my arms.
"You love me don't you?" he drawled.
"Idiot. This was such a waste of time. You are so infuriating; you're a bloody egotistical idiot!"
He just crossed his arms and smirked.
"You know pretty boy, if you weren't so drop dead gorgeous I would hit you," I said.
"So you think I'm drop dead gorgeous eh?"
"Urgh!" I cried out. I made a move to leave but he sidestepped me both times. I glared at him and we held eye contact not uttering a word for God knows how long.
"You know, I don't even know what I'm reading," he said suddenly. I looked at him.
"What?"
"I picked up a random book off my sister's bookshelf and bring it here to 'read'," he air quoted. "I don't particularly like reading much."
"Then why the hell are you here?" I asked. What kind of idiot would go to a bookstore if they didn't like reading?
Oh gee-whiz, I don't know, why don't we brainstorm? You go first.
"You were with a younger sister I think, and you were skimming through a pile of books you had while your sister was begging you to leave. You had you're hair much like it is today, you had you're Rolling Stones top on, a jean skirt on, and you're high top Converses."
"I…I…" I stuttered not knowing what he was trying to say.
"I only come in because you're always here. I know that's stalkerish but seriously I mean you're always in here! Why not the mall, or arcade? Somewhere more fun?" he asked me desperately. I almost laughed. He was asking me why I didn't go somewhere else so he could stalk me.
"It's shopping centre here," I said. His face fell slightly. He moved back a bit wiping his hands on his jeans.
He turned to go. "You picked up a book from the romance section. I thought that was very brave of you. You proved yourself to be a man. It was the book you picked out that drawled my attention to you. Other than you're eyes of course."
Mr Darcy Junior was smiling slightly.
"Yeah, I was only at the bookstore because I was getting books for my best friend. She likes to read. Our parents say we're opposites. I don't like reading. I'm more of a sports person."
"Is that so?" he asked grinning.
I shrugged. "My sister doesn't like books either. I think it runs in the family," I paused. Oh wait, my older brother is an English Literature teacher. Scrap that other bit."
"It was for my sister," he said randomly after a moment's silence.
"OK…" I said laughing.
"The book you saw me with. It was for my sister. I saw you that day and thought you were a regular with all the books you had." I laughed and was soon joined by Mr Darcy Junior.
"Hey, what's you're name?" I asked suddenly.
"Jamie," he replied. I nodded. "Yours?"
"Sophie." He too nodded.
"You're stalking me. I'm stalking you. Wonderful world. We're a right pair aren't we?" I asked him.
"We certainly are," he said. His eyes were glowing. "Hey, do you wanna blow this joint?"
"Oh hunny, we need to work on you're English. This is London. Not California."
"I come from New York," he replied deadpanned. I grabbed his arm.
"Come on," I said.
Together we walked out of the store, brushing up on our stalking skills by exchanging numbers and walking to his car.
I made a mental note of his license plate.
Hey! My stalker moments came when they wanted to. (Insert wink here)
Disclaimer – Don't own anything you recognise, e.g. Converses.
Hope you like this! I slept after school and now I can't go to sleep! Boohoo! Oh and we do say 'bloody' in our sentences. Or at least I do! ;) Thanks for reading lovelies! :D
Hopelessly Cliché
xoxo